Sunday, December 19, 2010

I moved from Las Vegas to Seattle about three and a half years ago. If you asked me then what my impetus was, I would have said Love. And that fact remains as true today as it was before, but I now realize other factors were already in motion in the grand scheme of my life. The wheels in the water of my unconscious were turning to guide me to my destiny one trickle of awareness at a time. I know, I know, it sounds “woo woo” and “out there” but you’ll see.

I had a great sense of direction and ambition that gave me the ability to pack up all of my belongings (including a grand piano) and arrange to have them transported 1300 miles from the desert to the rainforest of the northwest. Once I got here, the time came to unpack my life, both literally and figuratively. Unpacking the boxes was easy part; once everything was sorted and placed I then had to figure out me and where I fit in this new environment. The first step was to find a job, which turned out to be rather easy. I took a retail customer service position and almost quit on my first day. But I stuck with it and grew to quite like it but somewhere the shadow of my potential whispered that I was meant for something else. Enter my first office job. A co-worker told me about an office administrator position that was available at her other job. I applied, interviewed and was hired. If adjusting to the retail job was a struggle, then adjusting to the office job was climbing Mt. Everest in heels and a pashmina. Nothing in my life could have ever prepared me for the abominations I would encounter in that small rented space. Luckily, I had already been in therapy for a year, so I had someone to help guide me through the chaos. I hate thinking about how I let myself put up with so much negativity, but in doing so I learned how to stand up for myself and voice my opinions. I also learned that the work I did in therapy was transformative and I wanted to become a therapist myself to help others on their journeys.

Here’s where all they “woo-woo-it’s-my-destiny-stuff” comes into play. I didn’t’ want to become a boring run-of-the-mill cognitive behavioral therapist, but a depth psychologist. Depth psychology is the old school model that began with Freud. The kind in which one searches the unconscious for the repressed content that can aid in healing. My own therapist was a Jungian and the more I learned about Jung and experienced his theories at work in my life, the more I knew that I wanted to become a Jungian. I understand that Jung quite famously said, “I am glad I am Jung and not a Jungian” but for the purposes of this tale I will happily wear the Jungian mantle.

I didn’t realize when I moved here or when I started therapy that Seattle has a large Jungian community. The emerald city is home to a C.G. Jung Society, the Jungian Psychotherapists Association and the North Pacific Institute for Analytical Psychology. Seattle is also home to one of the five Antioch University campuses in the country and the only campus to offer classes in depth psychology. That’s right. The only one. You can study psychology at virtually any university in the country, but depth psychology is a different matter. If one is to study depth psychology, it is usually in graduate school. A professor at my Antioch orientation pointed out that Antioch is the “only school that offers depth psychology classes at the undergraduate level.” Jung might say this was synchronicity, or a meaningful coincidence. I’ll go one further and say it was Fate.

Just to be sure, I looked at other undergrad psychology programs offered by various universities and sure enough, they did not offer depth psychology courses. Just for fun, I looked up Jungian therapists in the Las Vegas area. Maybe I could have stumbled upon the same path if I had stayed in the desert, but no, there wasn’t a Jungian therapist to be found. No Jung Society and no analytical psychology training program. When it came to depth psychology, Las Vegas was as barren as the desert on which it lay.

I began thinking about the word psychotherapy which literally means “soul healing.” The famous indication that one is crazy is to move an index finger in a circular motion while pointing at their head. The assumption is that “crazy” is in the head, but I believe suffering is in the heart. The suffering causes the non-traditional behavior and if you can find the root cause of the suffering then the behavior becomes manageable or disappears all together.

I believe part of the reason for the lack of a Jungian presence in Las Vegas is because the city does not have a soul. The city was forged on depraved behavior and that image is intact today, as we all know that “what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.” The flashing lights of resorts beckon one to enter, promising the exotic landscape of Egypt, Paris or Rome. The ceilings are adorned with clouds and blue skies to give the feel of being outside in vitamin D enriched sun, but the reality is a smoky and dank amid an endless cacophony of bells and sirens hearkening one to wake up from fantasy. But the warning goes unheeded and spurs delusions of being the next to hit the big one. The jackpot seemingly bestows self-worth onto those pulling the handle or trusting in cards, but they don’t realize that the jackpot is already inside them. Jung spoke of a treasure buried in the field that was each individual’s task to find.

I had to move 1300 miles away to find my buried treasure. I don’t think I could have done so otherwise, at least not in the same fashion and at a time when I needed it most. The discovery of my Self is a gift that has no measurable value. You could argue that the cost would be akin to the money spent on therapy. But I would gladly pay ten times that amount if it meant the same result. My adventure that started with love led me to my soul and my purpose. I would be foolish to ask for anything more.